Assumptions
by Lady Merlin
Summary: Slightly OOC on Jim’s part, but don’t let it colour your impression. Jim is nice to and gains the respect of Chekov and somehow gets Spock to admit he respects him. Is there anything this man can’t do! Pre-Slash K/S but nothing yet!


I own NOTHING!! Slightly OOC on Jim's part, but don't let it colour your impression. Jim is nice to and gains the respect of Chekov and somehow gets Spock to admit he respects him. Is there anything this man _can't_ do?!

It was yet another _exciting_ day aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, boldly going where no man has gone before!

Jim sighed. Saying it aloud didn't make it any truer. It just gained him a lot of strange looks. It was probably the most _boring_ day _ever_. _Nothing_ was happening. Repeat: _nothing_. He sighed again, and ignored his First Officer's politely raised eyebrow. When he ignored the look Spock turned back to his station and began doing stuff that only a scientist would find exciting.

Excerpt of Spock's IM history (Er, no, where would you get the idea he hacked Spock's console? How strange!)  
Richard_the_Scientist: I have discovered an anomaly in the scientific anomaly register.  
Spock_the_Scientist: I do not believe this is possible. A scientific anomaly register is meant to register, as its name suggests, anomalies.  
Richard_the_Scientist: I must insist, my evidence is irrefutable. The anomaly register failed to register a known anomaly.  
Spock_the_Scientist: I defend myself. An anomaly that is known, is by definition, no longer an anomaly.

.

"I," he announced, "am going to get coffee. Anyone want some?" The bridge crew stared at him. "Apparently not," he muttered to himself, still uncomfortable with the formality that came with the title of Captain.

Suddenly he noticed that Chekov had raised his hand, hesitatingly. "May I hav some coffee, Keptin?" more like a question than a request.

"Sure," Jim said easily, and soon enough he had the polite and still hesitant requests of the crew. Well, the crew minus Spock. "Spock?" he asked. Spock gave him a look that said that he was clearly insane if he expected him, Spock, of all people to breach the code of formality on the Bridge, of all places. Not that this look meant anything, anyway. Jim was reasonably sure that if he got any bored-er, he would descend into complete and utter lunacy, running around the bridge in nothing but, well, nothing. The idea made him grin. The thought of the look on Spock's face made him _laugh_ and curious and somewhat concerned gazes followed his path.

Spock shook his head and sighed. The man was brilliant, but apparently Terrans were incapable of separating insanity and brilliance. Yet another point for Surakian teachings. Not that he was keeping score. That would be illogical.

Jim, however, found that there were too many cups and too few hands. He could make rounds, but he did have _some_ semblance of dignity. "Chekov! C'mere, help me!" he called, before he could rethink the command and it's implications.

On the Bridge, Spock took note of the order but didn't respond. Lt. Uhura too, pretended it didn't happen. But Lt. Sulu grinned and gave Chekov a sign signaling good luck. Chekov's mind was full of doubt as he went to the little used pantry (normally they were too panicked and busy killing bad guys to be bothered about coffee and biscuits) He hoped the Captain wasn't the type to deliberately humiliate someone, as some of his professors had been. He stepped into the pantry in immediately picked up some cups from the Captain's hand; he was clearly a few hands short.

"Thanks Chekov." There was no jest in the man's tone, sincerity in his eyes. Chekov heaved a sigh in relief just as Jim realised what Chekov must have been thinking. "Chill Pavel, you're doing fine." Chekov nodded solemnly.

They walked into the bridge and no one stared at them. Obviously Uhura had used her patented Glare'o'Death, warning them to look _natural_.

Suddenly the ship jerked violently and Scotty's voice came on, "Sorry! Sorry Cap'n! Just brushin' up teh engine room and acciden'ly restartud teh warp drive! I din' bloody realise teh switch was so bloody sens'tive!" The rugged accent dwindled into rather vulgar mumblings at which Commander Spock looked scandalized. Or as scandalized as he could look, anyway. But no one on the bridge was paying attention to him. They were busy trying to get coffee off their consoles.

When the ship had jerked, Chekov had stumbled and the cups of coffee from his hands had executed a perfect projectile arc towards _everywhere_. The worst one was Lt. Uhura who had coffee _everywhere. _She was drenched and her hair was limp. Her Glare'o'Death was on full force. Chekov winced as the rest of the crew tried to not laugh. Jim had the sensitivity to not make her ask for permission, and nodded. She walked away, haughty as a Queen. Covered in coffee.

The rest of the crew worked on cleaning up their consoles, laughing and talking quietly as Chekov rushed between the pantry and the Bridge bringing towels. Thank goodness Starfleet had recognised the merits of waterproofing their machines against loud protests from the guys up there (Why the _hell_ should we waterproof our machinery? It's in a high tech, perfectly controlled facility, why would there be water in it?)

They crew departed to clean up. It was almost time for a shift change anyway. Chekov sat there, still slightly sticky and miserable.

Jim approached and he jumped to his feet. "I'm wery sorry, Keptin. It was not my intention to lose balance, I--I accept any punishment you may hawe."

Jim waved a hand; at ease. "It's really okay Pavel. Shit happens. And like you said, it wasn't intentional."

Chekov nodded miserably. "I do not understand, Keptin."

"Understand what, Pavel? And call me Jim."

Chekov completely ignored his order (same as everyone else he tried it on. One day he'd shout it from the P.A. System...) and replied, "Keptin, I do not understand why you are so nice to me."

Jim smiled slightly, but sat down. This was an important question and had an important answer. He would do the best he could. "You know the Enterprise is yet new, right?" Chekov nodded. "Well, I'm young too." Okay, Jim knew he was screwing it up now. "And it's hard for Starfleet HQ to trust us, because we're young. No matter how well we've done. It's only natural, right?" Chekov nodded again. "Well, you're kinda like the Enterprises' Enterprise. Or should I say the Enterprise is Starfleet's Pavel Chekov? Do you see?" Chekov's face fell even though he tried to hide it. "I don't mean it as an insult. It's a fact and that's all there is to it. And the thing is, I know what you're going through. I was once in your position. I know how hard it gets. And I know that all you need is a little bit of trust, and you'll forget that they might not trust you, and eventually they'll forget it too."

Chekov was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he'd never considered it before. "You mean there ees something to this confidence business?" His accent was just a little bit more pronounced. Jim nodded, grinning at the hope in the kid's eyes. He shook himself, he wasn't that much older than the 'kid', and he didn't have anyone to tell him what he'd just to Chekov. He just wanted to make sure that he was okay; he felt a slight kinship with the boy.

Chekov nodded and almost bounded out the door before turning and saluting him. When he saluted back Chekov was gone, and he was left alone in the Bridge. He sighed and sat heavily on his chair, face in hands.

"Captain, are you alright?" came the crisp clear tones of his half-Vulcan First officer.

"It's Jim, Spock. And yeah, I am."

"I must express my mistrust in your statement. Your blood pressure is zero point five percent higher than it's average for the past year, and your heat-beat is accelerated. Also you seem to have _shrunk_, in stature, and according to several well known Terran Physicians this is a sign of low confidence and depression. I do not believe that you have low confidence, therefore there must be something else that is wrong with you."

Jim listened in amusement as his logical First lay down his argument with precision. "Your argument, Mr. Spock, is based on a faulty assumption." He could _feel_ Spock's shock, radiating in waves.

"What might this flaw be, please enlighten me."

"What makes you think I don't have low confidence?" Jim asked, a smiling but sad mask in place.

"Do you?"

"Well, no. But I'm not as confident as I seem. Sometimes I'm so scared I'll screw up and end up losing you all. Losing my family," Jim gestured slightly.

Spock looked shocked. "But you are a supremely competent commander, a master tactician and your crew is devoted to you! You are very intelligent!"

"Thanks for the compliments," Jim joked as Spock realised what he'd just said and blushed a light green. "But ability doesn't have everything to do with it. I'm only human, Spock. And I'm so terrified that one day I'll misjudge something, or some situation, and it'll all be over. It's luck that has gotten me here, luck and a bit of talent. I don't have experience, knowledge, nothing. That's why I depend so heavily on you, Spock. I hope you know that I always trust your judgment and your opinion is of high value. When I doubt myself I turn to you, Spock. That's how important you are to me." Spock was still silent. Jim was relatively sure that all these surprises would kill Spock in a day, and found himself hoping, fervently, that no such thing happened.

"Captain, I am a commander. You are, as your title suggests (and here Jim saw some more of the humor which Spock's slips promised) a Captain. Your worth is higher than mine for a reason. You have the creativity and flexibility to be a Captain, and the style required to be popular, which is important in a Captain. Admiral Pike saw reason to explain his choice before his retirement. I did not require an explanation, but he passed one on, regardless. He said that we work off each other, and we can use each other. However you must be Captain and I, Commander, because you are better able to communicate your desires than I, and what Captain can we have, who is unable to give orders? I found his speech lacking comprehension (which equaled to _I thought it was utter crap_) but I understood the emotion behind it."

"Whatever you say, Spock. You and McCoy. You three give me the _ability_ to run this ship, you give me three brains instead of one. I appreciate that. I just want you to know it." Jim sighed and sat down again. "Do you know how to play Chess, Spock?"

"I know Chess is a Terran logic game, and I know the rules vaguely (which meant _yeah, I know how to play chess_)." Spock looked curious as to where Jim was going with this.

"What would you say to a game of chess after dinner? In my quarters?" Jim looked hesitant, again, and Spock looked surprised. This was beginning to become a habit.

"What reason could you possibly have behind inviting me to play a game? I fail to see how you would gain."

"I don't have a reason, really. And I will gain. I'll get to know my First Officer better, and maybe get to be friends."

"So it's a bonding exercise, of sorts. I understand Captain. I will arrive at 2100 hours."

"It's Jim, Spock. And sure, whatever you say." Jim grinned. It was funny how Spock didn't get it.

"I fail to find humour in this."

"Oh, it's okay Spock."

"I insist, what are you laughing at?" and Jim laughed louder.

This was going to be _fun_.

Well? How is it? REVIEW!!!

Love,

Lady Merlin


End file.
